The Gay Thing
by Wind Chijmes
Summary: -ROOKIES, YAOI, Aniya/Mikoshiba, Okada/Yufune, Wakana/Hiyama- Hiratsuka is on a mission, and drags Imaoka along. As they spy on the other baseball members, they realise that things in the baseball club aren't as innocent as they seem!


**Title : The Gay Thing**

**Author : **Wind Chijmes

**Rating : **PG/PG-13

**Warnings : **Shounen-ai (aka boys' love, aka homoeroticism), cussing

**Pairings: **Aniya/Mikoshiba, Okada/Yufune, Wakana/Hiyama

**Summary : **Hiratsuka is on a mission, and drags Imaoka along. As they spy on the other baseball members, they realise that things in the baseball club aren't as innocent as they seem!

* * *

"I THINK – " Hiratsuka announced that day.

Imaoka largely ignored him. They hadn't been keeping up with the Undies Diary and it was vexing. What _colour_ was the nurse gonna wear today? More significantly, what cut and pattern was she wearing?

"That the others are GAY."

Imaoka choked on his spit. "_What_?"

Hiratsuka's eyes had grown to the size of saucers and he looked earnest – which was half of what disturbed Imaoka. "I've seen them DO THINGS."

"Don't be stupid," Imaoka sighed, ignoring the reflexive bristling that the S word provoked from Hiratsuka. It was a bluff, and they _both_ knew it. "Oh and, don't let Aniya hear you, or he'll beat the shit outta you." Which was the gospel truth.

"Not when he's doing THINGS with Mikoshiba."

"He's _not_ doing things with – " Imaoka paused, then turned a little green around the edges. "What things?"

"It's not MANLY to say it – " Hiratsuka scoffed, puffing out like a mustachioed balloon. "I'll SHOW YOU!"

Imaoka didn't really say no. Not that it was possible to say no to Hiratsuka when he was on a roll. They waited until it was sundown before they headed towards the washroom nearest to the baseball field, Hiratsuka dragging a sighing Imaoka all the way. The washroom was out of the way, deserted and only used when it was _absolutely_ necessary. Creepy as hell too. There was no baseball practice that day – their only day off in weeks – so who the fuck would be there?

And even _if_ Aniya and Mikoshiba were there doing – doing whatever the hell they were doing – Imaoka wasn't excited about finding out. Not when his _life_ was at stake.

"Hiracchi – " Imaoka began.

The youth scowled meaningfully at him.

Imaoka realised why. The washroom light was on. There were people in there at this godforsaken time. He heard voices, and saw the moving shadows on the walls. Imaoka's brows shot to the top of his forehead.

Peering intently through the hazy glass panel on the door, Hiratsuka was quiet for several overly-long seconds, before he froze, then gestured wildly for Imaoka to get up there and spy with him.

_I'm insane. We're insane._ Imaoka raised himself a little bit higher and shared space with Hiratsuka as he stared through the glass and tried to make out what was happening in there.

They could barely see anything. The light wasn't bright and the shower stalls obscured everything. Then Imaoka saw the movements in the rows of mirrors, and he squinted. There was a long bench or something just around the corner of the stalls, and there were moving figures on the bench. It was next to impossible to tell exactly who those figures were, entangled as they were, and locked in some sort of an embrace. Which, when you think about it, was pretty freaky.

Imaoka turned his head. "You sure that's them?"

Hiratsuka just gave him that _'are you stupid'_ look.

"I can't see anything through this – "

They both heard the groan. It was a long, low groan that emanated from the figures on the bench. Their eyes popped at the same time.

There was no doubt about it.

Mikoshiba.

* * *

"Owww...fuck..." he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. One of his legs was jacked up, knee almost touching his own chest, calf resting on the muscled shoulder of the youth hovering over him, thigh supported by two callused hands.

"Did you just use a _profanity_?" A snigger from that gravelly voice. "Wonder what the others would say if they heard you, Captain."

Mikoshiba opened his eyes and mock-glared at him. "If you don't hurry up, I'll use more than a profanity, Aniya-kun."

Aniya just snorted and pressed in deeper, stretching Mikoshiba even further. "Fuck, you're tight."

"Thanks to your prowess," Mikoshiba's retort ended in another groan as he felt his thigh muscles strain. Above him, Aniya lunged slowly in and out, working Mikoshiba's aching thigh with a surprising amount of skill and care.

Mikoshiba knew how sorry Aniya felt, even though there was absolutely no need for it. The brilliant batter he was, Aniya had hit the ball so far and powerful that it had taken Mikoshiba a full body lunge and an awkward landing to catch it. Hence, the strained thigh. In his trademark brusque manner, Aniya had offered to do _something_ about it, and Mikoshiba smiled and said okay, not really knowing how to refuse, really.

So here they were, for the third night in a row, Mikoshiba on his back on the bench in the remote field washroom, and Aniya stretching his thigh like a professional physiotherapist. It hurt like a bitch yet felt good at the same time, and Mikoshiba had to avoid thinking of how weird and suggestive they looked together on this damned bench.

"So..." Mikoshiba said, a little hurriedly, trying to break the silence. "I've been wondering...it's been a while since we saw Okada and Yufune..."

"Hah?" Aniya cocked his head. "We just saw them yesterday in practice. You dreamin' or something?"

"No, I mean..." Mikoshiba pursed his lip thoughtfully. "Off the field. They're cutting classes – _without_ us. I'm worried what they're up to."

A strange expression crossed Aniya's face. It was gone in a second, too quick for Mikoshiba to decipher. He leaned back on his haunches, pulling Mikoshiba's leg along with the movement to relax it, and then pushed forward again, this time with a very unholy gleam in his gaze. "I don't think you need to worry 'bout them, Captain," he said.

Mikoshiba was confused. "Why not?"

"They have _extra_-curricular activities," Aniya replied with a completely straight face.

"Eh?!"

"Kinda like us, don't you think?" Aniya reminded Mikoshiba with a grin that made him want to dig a hole somewhere and bury his head in it.

"This – this isn't an extra-curricular activity," Mikoshiba muttered dumbly, feeling like a righteous idiot.

"Oi..." Aniya said suddenly, pausing. The normally intense look on his handsome face had given way to one of genuine curiosity. "Your hair's grown."

"Hmm?" Mikoshiba blinked, trying to wrap his brain around the abrupt change in conversation topic. He turned his head a little and could see his own hair spread out beneath his head. It _had_ grown longer, like Aniya observed, tickling at his neck and ears, and falling into his eyes when he moved his head. "Yeah," Mikoshiba agreed, then looked rueful. "Guess I'll have to cut it soon. Irritates my eyes." And made him look a bit wimpy, he concluded.

"Nah." There was a smile in Aniya's tone. "You look better like this."

Mikoshiba looked up with a start, but only caught a glimpse of the teasing glint in Aniya's eyes before he lowered his head and concentrated again on the task at hand. "Well...ah...I guess," Mikoshiba ended sheepishly.

As Aniya worked on the last round of stretches, Mikoshiba wondered vaguely where Aniya had learnt to be so good at this. Well, the numerous girls in the ace-pitcher's active sex life might have to do with it. A slow burn crept over Mikoshiba's cheeks and he hoped to hell he wasn't blushing. The thought of Aniya and girls – doing things – was just – really embarrassing. Mikoshiba froze when another thought hit him without warning. Him – now – on the bench – Aniya's hands warm and firm on his skin – does this mean he's like one of the girls in Aniya's – ! Swallowing convulsively, Mikoshiba breathed in and out deeply and tried not to draw disturbing conclusions.

"Oi," Aniya paused yet again, and frowned. "You're shaking."

"Huh?" Mikoshiba said, swallowed, and tried again. "I am? Uhm – mff!" his words were cut off when Aniya's hand clapped suddenly over his mouth.

"Shh – " Aniya hissed. His brows were drawn tight, and his frown deepened into a glare as he raised his head and peered towards the door. "Someone's watching us," his voice lowered in menace.

Mikoshiba's eyes were wide above Aniya's hand. Then he heard the noises as well – and it sounded like someone moving at the door. Who? One of the baseball members? It had to be. Hardly anyone would use this washroom. And if anyone used it and got caught by the baseball club, he'd likely end up mashed into a pulp anyway. But the _point _was, someone was looking at them – Mikoshiba looked down and realised _exactly_ how he and Aniya looked with their limbs entwined like that. He gave a muffled gasp.

Struggling a little, Mikoshiba batted at Aniya's arm, on which the pitcher was placing entirely too much weight, damn it. Nodding, Aniya released him and eased up a little. Mikoshiba exhaled, then listened intently. The noises were still there.

"I don't think there's anyone around," Aniya declared abruptly, and _loudly_, almost making Mikoshiba jump. "But if I catch anyone spying on us, I'll _kill _the fucker."

Mikoshiba caught the drift quickly. "I'll make him run rounds!" he said, just as loudly, adding to Aniya's threat.

That was when the noises stopped, and then they heard the sudden flurry of receding footfalls. Sounded like more than one person. They listened for a bit more, just to make sure they were truly alone now.

"Are they gone?" Mikoshiba said, trying to rise on his elbows and quite failing.

"Yeah..." Aniya said after a moment's pause. Then he looked down with an incredulous smirk. "_Run rounds_?"

"What?" Mikoshiba sputtered. "That _is_ punishment!"

"You're fucking kiddin' me."

"Just because I haven't made _you_ run rounds!"

"Yeah?" Aniya lowered his head purposefully, his grin darkening. "How _will_ you do it?"

"Till you _die_," Mikoshiba shot back sweetly.

They eyeballed each other. Silence. Then they laughed at the same time.

Aniya shook his head. "Idiot," he snorted, and lowered Mikoshiba's leg none-too-gently from his shoulder.

"Oww – oww!" Mikoshiba yelped as the blood rushed back to his leg. "Take it easy, brute!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's what you always say," Aniya's grin turned sly. "But I bet you love it, secretly." He looked exactly as smug as he sounded.

Mikoshiba simply stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Then he erupted with an indignant squawk. "Take that back, Aniya, you idiot! Don't treat me like I'm a – a girl!"

Aniya's hand flew out and for the second time that night, Mikoshiba was silenced. He blinked down at the hand cupping his chin.

"You really are an idiot, Mikoshiba," Aniya actually sighed when he said that. "If you're a girl, I'll have fucked you already."

Aniya's hand fell away, and Mikoshiba could only choke out, "A – Aniya – "

"So, tomorrow night?"

"Ah...aa..."

"See ya," Aniya rose from the bench in a quick, graceful move. Snatching up his bag, he swung it over his shoulder, and turned his head just enough for Mikoshiba to see that conspiratorial twinkle in his eyes. "_Captain_."

Mikoshiba sat up on the bench, staring at the door long after Aniya had already left. His lips still tingled where Aniya's fingers had brushed.

He sighed inwardly. At this rate, he'd never figure out how to say no to Aniya.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Imaoka was gasping between desperate pants for breath.

"Why – " Hiratsuka huffed. "Are WE RUNNING?!"

"Shaddup!" Imaoka yelled at him. One didn't need to be a genius to know a threat when it was flung into the face like how Aniya and Mikoshiba did back there! He practically had to _haul_ an uber-unwilling and thick-headed Hiratsuka away from the washroom. If it came down to it, Imaoka would rather face the idea of Aniya and Mikoshiba doing the gay thing, than have them after his tail.

They reached the main school building, quickly avoided the security post, and threw themselves into the alley that led to the baseball club room. There, far enough away from the field washroom and the wrath of Aniya-slash-Mikoshiba, they could finally try to catch their breaths.

Then they heard the footsteps.

Not again! Imaoka groaned under his breath. _Gimme a break here!_ He had had enough for one night. Snagging Hiratsuka's arm, he tugged it urgently. "Storage. Now!"

It was a wonder how he managed to get them both into the storage room right in the nick of time and hit the light at the same time, throwing the room into hazy focus. A split-second later, the footsteps were right outside the storage room, growing louder, mingling with the faint jangling of keys, and then disappearing into the room next door – the club room itself.

Imaoka froze. He was going to pray really hard to the heavens that it wasn't Aniya next door. Beside him, Hiratsuka was stalking around the tiny storage room and fanning himself with both hands.

Before Hiratsuka could announce exactly what he thought of the storage room however, Imaoka was there in a flash and clapping his hands over Hiratsuka's mouth. He shook his head wildly, hoping Hiratsuka caught the bloody hint. These club rooms were built cheap, and that meant the walls were _paper _thin.

That also meant that it was time to go. NOW.

But Hiratsuka was going nowhere. Instead, he had wrested free from Imaoka's grip and was now plastering his head against the wall and listening intently. He also had the most weirded-out look on his face. He beckoned to Imaoka demandingly. _Come, come, COME._

Imaoka cursed his luck and obeyed grudgingly. One of these days he was gonna die by the hands of the baseball club members, and it wasn't even gonna be his fault! Leaning his face against the wall, he pressed his ear deep, trying to catch whatever it was that Hiratsuka found so fascinating.

There were voices. Which Imaoka'd expected.

The voices were not that of Aniya and Mikoshiba. Which Imaoka was profoundly relieved about.

They were those of – now this piqued Imaoka's interest despite himself –

Okada and Yufune.

* * *

"One of these days, the rest are gonna ask questions. I'm surprised Mikoshiba hasn't started."

"Let them, nyaa! I can care less."

"I _actually _do care," Okada muttered, then winced as one of his dreadlocks was tugged too hard. He tilted his head backwards so he could look up at the boy hovering behind him. "Watch out a bit, will ya'?"

"Che," Yufune said airily. "I don't care what the world thinks. What matters is what _I _feel – oh – " He paused in his braiding of Okada's hair, and grinned suddenly and brightly. "And Okada too."

"Uh-huh," Okada rolled his eyes, already dismissing what Yufune said. They were already in their senior year and Yufune was still so flippant. It was not that he didn't care about Yufune's opinion, mind, but there were bigger things to worry about sometimes. And the reactions of the other baseball members were one of those.

"There!" Yufune exclaimed, throwing his hands out in a flourish. "It's done, nyaa!"

Raising the mirror he held in one hand, Okada angled it this way and that. Some of his dreadlocks were coming loose and Yufune had decided that braids would look good. Okada was unconvinced but gave in after Yufune spelled out the options. Braids. Or _sparkly_ butterfly clips. No-brainer about which one Okada eventually chose.

"Looks okay," Okada admitted reluctantly.

"I _told _you," Yufune looked victorious. Then he grew solemn. "C'mon, Okada, we gotta get the work done."

Okada made a wry face as he watched Yufune set to work. He probably shouldn't have allowed himself to be talked into duplicating the club room keys, since it meant Yufune now had the space to let his creativity free. Oblivious to Okada's concerns, Yufune was rummaging about his locker, and finally emerged with a large box.

That was what Yufune had been up to this couple of weeks. Correction. That was what _both_ of them were up to, since Yufune'd be damned if he didn't drag Okada along on his crazy trips.

"Okada~!" Yufune chimed as he plonked himself onto the bench and set down the box between himself and Okada. "We gotta hurry. The tournament season's gonna start soon, and I wanna finish these by then."

Yufune peeled the lids open and both youths peered into it. Nestled in the box were piles and piles of paper planes. And not just any paper planes, mind. They were intricately folded and would make any origami-lover proud. Okada had rationalised that folding paper _cranes_ should be the norm for garnering good luck, but nope, Yufune had dismissed cranes as so last century, and insisted that planes would do the trick just as well, if not better.

"How many we got so far?" Okada asked.

"Sixty-nine," Yufune said, already picking up an unfinished plane and cradling it with careful fingers. "Thirty-one more to go." He wanted to make a hundred for good measure.

It took a while for Okada to sort out the steps to folding the paper planes – he really was _not_ cut out for this artsy-fartsy stuff and always forgot the steps every time they picked up where they left off last. It took even longer for Okada to finish folding _one_ plane, then he found himself getting bored already. By then, Yufune was already on his third plane.

Okada leaned back on his hands and simply watched the other boy at work. It never failed to amaze him how Yufune always found something to amuse himself with. It could be a stupid drama serial on TV, or a particular snack, or some person or something, it didn't matter. Yufune would be obsessed and addicted for weeks and months, until the next object of interest came along. Right now, it was this origami crap.

"Oi, Yufune," Okada prodded the boy with one foot. "Don't you get tired of this shit?"

"Hmm?" Yufune murmured, totally non-committal.

"This," Okada pressed on, hoping Yufune would get it, for once. "You know, jumping from one thing to another? Just pick one and stick to it, will ya'?"

The chestnut-haired boy finally paused, and looked up with an almost scandalised expression on his face. "That's so fan-fucking-tastically boring, nyaa!"

Ah well, not that he hadn't tried to talk Yufune out of his fickleness. Okada shrugged. "Whatever."

"Ouchers!"

Okada immediately sat up straight and looked over. "What?"

Wincing, Yufune dropped the plane he was folding. He thrust out his hand and stuck his fingers in Okada's face. "Paper cut, nyaa!" he wailed. "Fucking hurts!"

Shaking his head, Okada took his hand and peered at it. "All right, all right, I'm looking at it. Quit bawling."

"Bitch."

"Baby," Okada returned mildly and stared down at the wound on Yufune's fingers. It was a paper cut as Yufune had whined about, and while not a deep wound, it would hurt.

"Don't just look at it, nyaa!"

There was only one way to shut Yufune up. Lifting Yufune's hand, Okada pressed his lips to it. He licked at those slender fingers, curling his tongue over the wound, tasting the copper-salty tang of blood and skin. Yufune had gone completely quiet; Okada heard only the heavy accents of Yufune's breathing in the stillness. It'd been this way since they'd known each other as middle-school kids. Yufune always got himself hurt, and Okada would inevitably have to clean up the mess afterwards.

His heart thudding in both embarrassment and no small amount of awkwardness, Okada pulled away and rolled his eyes. "I dunno what you're doing all this for. The others won't even appreciate it, you know."

"I don't care if they do."

Okada looked up and his retort died in his throat when he saw the complete seriousness on Yufune's face. He looked down again and it was like seeing Yufune's hand for the first time. It was not unlike his own. Callused, scarred, littered with numerous cuts. And Okada understood then that Yufune did what he did, not _only _because he didn't care what the rest of the world thought, but because _Yufune_ cared.

"I pick Okada. Okada's the only one I'll never get tired of." Still uttered in that earnest seriousness.

"Idiot," Okada murmured.

Yufune laughed his sing-song and brilliant laugh. "But you love me anyway, nyaa!"

The _idiot_. Okada raised his eyes and looked into the grinning face of the boy who looked like a girly-boy and behaved like a boyish-girl, and didn't know what to say at first. It was like the words were all trapped in his chest.

Okada pushed Yufune's hand away, and looked at anything but Yufune. It took a while but finally he could speak. "If the others say anything stupid about these stupid paper planes," Okada muttered. "I'll kick their asses."

Yufune blinked in genuine surprise, for Okada never fought unless threatened with certain death, but a smile blossomed on his face. "I know," he picked up the dropped paper plane. "I _know_."

Neither of them spoke after that, and it wasn't just because of some masculine inhibitions. No sooner had their conversation ended, when there was a loud crash.

Okada jumped, startled. Yufune almost toppled over in shock.

It had come from next door. Yufune's gaze tracked wildly around for a second, before he recovered and snatched up the box to stow it away. Okada got up quickly and quietly to his feet. Someone was in the storage room next door. It was not usually locked, so people could go in and out easily. But it was still definitely fishy to have someone there now. It was already approaching nightfall. Okada had also made sure that they weren't followed. So whoever was in the storage room must have been there before them, and must have also heard _everything_ he and Yufune had said. Just great.

Yufune came up beside him, and his usually cheery face was now scrunched up in irritation. "Who is it?" he mouthed.

Okada shrugged. "Dunno," he whispered. How the hell would he know, anyway?

Now Yufune looked seriously pissed. "I'm going over," he could barely keep his voice down. "And I'm gonna beat the crap out of them, nyaa~"

Okada didn't bother informing him that the 'nyaa' thing had the effect of diminishing the potency of that threat. Instead, he grinned and lifted a hand to show Yufune the keys dangling from his fingers. "I've got a better idea."

* * *

Imaoka stared down at the boxes scattered on the ground. Next to him, Hiratsuka had the same stunned look on his face. For once, it had nothing to do with Hiratsuka. It was Imaoka himself who screwed them over this time round.

And he couldn't help it. He really couldn't. Not when the innuendo in Okada and Yufune's conversation just jumped out at Imaoka! So he'd been shocked, and he'd jerked backwards and hit his bloody head on the bloody shelf. And down came the stacked boxes.

The talking had ceased immediately next door, and Imaoka knew with a sort of sickening sensation in his guts that Okada and Yufune had heard. Of course they would. It wasn't like they were _deaf_. Now it was all about waiting for the punishment that would surely follow.

Imaoke swallowed and stared at the door, feeling his knees weaken already. Next to him, Hiratsuka was puffed up again, like he was readying himself for battle. Okada and Yufune might be the least violence-prone members of the club, but that only meant that when they _did_ fight, they were more vicious than anyone else.

Seconds passed, and still nothing happened. Imaoka tried not to tremble too much. What the fuck was happening?

There was a _click_ then.

Imaoka blinked. Eh? Hiratsuka reacted more quickly. He sprang towards the door and threw his weight against it. For a cheap storage room, the door was ridiculously steadfast once locked.

"Enjoy the rest of the night, nyaa!" Yufune's voice rang out merrily outside the locked storage room.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Hiratsuka roared, flailing his fists against the door.

"Hiracchi?" Now Okada spoke and he sounded honestly surprised. "That you?"

"And me too!" Imaoka hollered in desperation.

"Imaoka?" Okada exclaimed.

There was some movement against the door, and Imaoka's heart lifted. Okada wouldn't be heartless enough to leave them locked in the storage room for a whole night!

"Don't open it, Okada!" Yufune interjected, and the sounds ceased.

Imaoka's heart sank again. He'd forgotten about Yufune's devious streak.

"BASTARDS!" Hiratsuka refused to surrender.

"Stay in there and reflect on your wrongs, nyaa!" Yufune sounded freakishly cheery. "We'll come say hi in the morning!"

The footfalls began receding.

Above Hiratsuka's crazed barrage against the unyielding door, Imaoka could only croak out an incoherent sound of dismay as he slid down to the floor onto his ass. One whole night trapped in that tiny storage room with a raging Hiratsuka.

Imaoka was officially fucked.

* * *

"You're evil," Okada was saying, but the smile on his face, if anything to go by, looked positively devilish.

"I know," Yufune giggled. "But they deserve it, nyaa!"

They were still laughing when they rounded the corner, but stopped when they saw the scene at the deserted courtyard.

"Ooh~" Yufune said, eyes rounding.

Okada stared in the direction Yufune was gawking at. "Hiyama..." he said.

"And Wakana," Yufune finished.

There was no doubt about the identities of the two youths in the courtyard. Even if Okada and Yufune couldn't really make out the faces of those two figures, the loud bickering and simultaneous bellows of encouragement were a dead giveaway.

"They're practising?" Okada shook his head. "They never know when to take a break, do they?" He made a move towards the courtyard but was stopped by Yufune's hand.

"Leave them be, Okada," Yufune chided gently, before drawing away and tugging Okada along with him. "They don't need us around."

Okada was almost going to protest, something along the lines of having helped Shinjo with his catching, a couple more people helping Wakana and Hiyama would do them good, but then he realised _what_ Yufune meant.

"I get it," Okada said, letting himself be pulled away by Yufune.

"Good. Those two are in love and they don't even know it!"

"...Yufune, not everyone is into this gay thing, okay?"

"So we're the only ones?"

"...That's not what I meant either, moron."

"Che~"

* * *

"Oi, I think I saw – "

"God_damn_, would you fucking concentrate?!"

Hiyama snapped his head around, his temper rising swiftly to the fore. "What's your bloody problem!"

"_You_ are!" Wakana retorted. "One hit out of ten tries is so pathetic I don't even know where to start!"

Hiyama bristled, but by sheer willpower, forced himself to shut up. Wakana was probably the only human on earth that Hiyama would allow to speak to him like that. Anyone else who dared try to be funny with Hiyama would have been properly introduced to his fist.

"Try again!" Wakana snapped at him, stepping backwards, arms full of worn-out balls. Sweat poured down his temples in streams, and he was breathing hard in exertion.

Hiyama's hands tightened around the bat. Wakana was also the only human on earth who would stand there, pissed and exhausted, but never once giving up as he pitched ball after ball to Hiyama just to improve his batting. Seriously, that was probably the one reason why Hiyama hadn't stomped over to Wakana and decked him for all the verbal abuse he'd been dishing out.

"Oi!"

"Aa," Hiyama growled, getting into stance. "Come on!"

The ball arced sharply through the air. Hiyama spotted it, followed its line with his eyes, gritted his teeth when it disappeared from sight, his body moving as he swung blindly. His bat met nothing but empty air, and Hiyama cursed in frustration. Not again! Hiyama was so caught up between wanting to scream and smashing his head against the nearest wall, that he didn't notice Wakana stalking over to him until the youth was right in his face.

"Wha – " Hiyama began, then a burst of pain exploded across his face, and he stumbled. He righted himself almost immediately afterwards, just in time to see Wakana's next blow coming.

Catching Wakana's fist in one hand, Hiyama shifted then swung back with his own arm. It was a solid punch, and met Wakana's jaw in a resounding thump. The catcher reeled backwards, swearing at the same time.

Patience long gone and not quite thinking anymore, they traded blows like that for god knew how long, both furious and almost drunken with testosterone. It was like the world around them had faded to a blur, and all they could feel was each other's flesh beneath their fists.

How it ended was beyond Hiyama; he simply could not remember. Either pain or exhaustion must have just taken over, because Hiyama found himself braced on two hands on the ground, staring stupidly at a bruised and grinning Wakana beneath him. There was something about the situation that clicked uncomfortably in Hiyama's mind, but he was too battered to really think about it. Then Hiyama's arms simply gave away, and he slumped like a dead weight onto Wakana, drawing yelps and groans from both of them.

"You're fucking heavy, Hiyama, get off," Wakana complained as he shoved at Hiyama.

Hiyama grunted as he flung himself over and onto his back. Oh hell, that hurt. "You messed me up _good_, wanker."

"I could say the same, asshole." Wakana said with a groan, lifting a hand to his mouth and swiping away the blood there.

"I got you here to help work on my _batting_."

"Yeah, whatever," Wakana retorted, a lot less barbed than he sounded. "You still don't know jack shit about batting anyway."

They settled into a strangely comfortable silence. And Hiyama'd be damned, but from his position, he could see the faint stars in the night sky.

"Oi, Hiyama."

"What?"

"If neither of us is married by age thirty, you're stuck with me for good."

Hiyama turned his head and simply stared at Wakana for one stupefying moment. Say WHAT? Half of what amazed and terrified Hiyama was the look of dead seriousness on Wakana's face, because Hiyama knew then Wakana was neither kidding nor lying. The other half was what Wakana said – did that idiot even know what he was saying?!

"I can't believe those words just came outta your mouth," Hiyama barked.

"Yeah, neither can I," Wakana admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

Hiyama reached out and smacked him on the cheek not-too-hard. Nevertheless, Wakana swore in response and shot him a death glare. "What the hell, you think we're shooting a chick flick or something?!" Hiyama growled.

Wakana said nothing to that, and again, silence reigned. This time around however, it was tensed and uneasy, and left each boy with his own uncomfortable thoughts. If anything, it actually made Hiyama realise the horrific truth.

"Yeah..." Hiyama said before he could censor himself. Fuck.

"What?"

There was no turning back now, and Hiyama was not one to do things half-assed. "I mean," he said gruffly, not looking at Wakana. "If neither of us is married by age thirty, I'm stuck with you for good."

The silence stretched on for several heartbeats, and then some. Scowling, Hiyama turned his head. "Oi! Aren't you – " he faltered as Wakana burst into laughter.

It started as a chuckle, then escalated into all-out manic chortling. Wakana was still laughing minutes later, subsiding only when he finally got his mirth under control. He paused, snorted, then chuckled again. "Now we're _really_ in a chick flick."

"Son of a _bitch_," Hiyama swore with a groan. "I'm gonna get you for this, Wakana!"

Hiyama didn't really get to follow up on his threat though. Not when Wakana was already up on his feet and extending the bat downwards. Hiyama stared at the metal tip and the word 'Mizuno' in black lettering.

"Get up, you wuss." Wakana waved the bat at him. "You can beat me bloody, and I'll still be laughing if you can't get your batting right."

Hiyama had no doubt Wakana would do exactly that. Snorting, Hiyama gripped the bat and allowed himself to be yanked up onto his feet. The bat was a heavy weight in his hands. Hiyama swung it a few times, almost surprised at how smooth the movement felt now.

"I guess." A grin crept slowly across Hiyama's face. "The only way to shut you up is to shove the ball into your mouth."

"Hn," Wakana grinned back as he got into the wind-up position. "Get ready."

"Aa." Hiyama had never been more ready.

The ball arced through the air. And this time, it stayed right on sight throughout the night.

* * *

The next morning, way before it was time for school assembly, saw the figures of eight youths hurrying across the school grounds. Most of them were swearing and moaning about what the fuck the problem was. Only Mikoshiba seemed worried.

"You _locked_ them into the storage room?" Mikoshiba snapped as he strode towards said room. Behind him, the others followed like a reluctant troop of brats.

"It's not Okada's fault, nyaa!" Yufune said crossly. "I made him do it! Plus, Hiracchi and Imaoka were spying on us!"

"Probably us too," Aniya spoke up helpfully.

That made Mikoshiba pause, and actually look mortified for a moment, before he shook his head and continued on his purposeful stride. "That doesn't mean it's fine to lock them in the storage room! I'm confiscating your duplicate keys!"

"Yeah," Hiyama said from wherever he was in the group. "Not when Okada and Yufune were _also_ sneaking around the school at night!"

"Says who?" Yufune refused to back down.

"Says my fist!" Hiyama snarled. "I saw you – "

"Shut up, the both of you!" Mikoshiba bellowed at the both of them, and it worked. "What if Imaoka and Hiratsuka suffocated to death?"

"I don't think so," _now_ Okada sounded concerned.

"We won't have enough members if that happens, you know?" Mikoshiba continued on his tirade, not really noticing the looks of incredulity and amazement the others were levelling on him.

"_That's_ what you're worried about?" Aniya was thoroughly amused.

Mikoshiba was already feeding the key into the hole, hands shaking. The door swung open in melodramatic slow-motion.

Breaths held, the boys stared into the slowly-revealed storage room, half-expecting to find the decomposing corpses of their comrades. So, it was almost a bit of a disappointment when all they saw were Imaoka and Hiratsuka huddled together in deep, snoring slumber.

"Thank heavens," Mikoshiba looked like he was ready to shed tears of gratitude. "I wouldn't know what to say to Kawato-sensei, otherwise."

They continued staring at Imaoka and Hiratsuka, every boy carefully noting the entanglement of their limbs, the unusual intimacy in their proximity, the fact that the both of them were together the night before doing only heaven-knows-what, the uncomfortable suggestion when all the elements were added up together.

"I think..." Shinjo said quietly, his expression almost philosophical.

Everyone turned and looked at Shinjo.

"Yeah..." Sekikawa drawled in agreement. He looked wondering and amused and grossed out all at one time.

"That they're _gay_," Shinjo finished with finality.

There was a moment of pure silence from everyone. Then –

"EHHH?!"

* * *

**fin**

**November 2008**


End file.
